Gianfrancesco had told her about it, how he had played in it as a child with his brothers. " "'Bloody and deceitful men shall not live half their days'," said Wood, reading aloud another passage. ’ She was backing across the room, moving towards the screen. And in these crowded four weeks, what had she learned? That all horizons were lies: that smiles and handshakes and goodbyes and welcomes were lies: that there were really no to-morrows, only a treadmill of to-days: and that out of these lies and mirages she had plucked a bitter truth—she was alone. It was 1582. “What do you think of that?” he asked. The cart, meantime, had approached the fatal tree.
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